A Fence, Sir!
by dudeurfugly
Summary: Private Edward Tipper's point of view on the whole Fence Incident, based upon the various facial expressions he displayed throughout. And, Tipper gets a laughable confession from none other than Sobel after he learns he's been tricked.


**Disclaimer: I don't own Band of Brothers (except now I have the DVD box set!) and I realize that it is based upon the lives of real men who served in the military. I mean no disrespect; this is just a piece of fiction. **

**A/N: This has got to be one of my favorite scenes in the series. And Tipper's faces throughout the whole incident are absolutely priceless…so I wanted to write his point of view. As for the end, it's kind of crack-ish… Not very original, but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless!**

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"Why is there a fence here?" Sobel asked, panting, as we walked alongside the barbed-wire barrier. The moment I saw it, I knew we were fucked.

I wasn't quite sure how to take that question. I don't know, sir. Shouldn't I be asking _you_ that? You know, 'cause you're the one who's (surprise, surprise) supposed to be…um, _leading_? He was asking it to no one in particular, but his tone implied that it was someone else's fault and not his.

Because nothing is ever his fault. Almighty Sobel is practically untouchable around here.

He stared at the fence in question like it was the Devil incarnate, while I shouldered my weapon and tried not to smile at my superior's frustration. Serves him right, for once. I was already digging inside my uniform to pull out the map I knew he would be needing.

"There should be no fence here," he continued, attempting to catch his breath. "Tipper!"

No need to yell, sir, I'm standing right next to you.

Oblivious. Completely oblivious…

"Yes, sir," I muttered anyway, finally working the damned thing free.

"Give me the…" I was already shoving it into his hands, two steps ahead of him as always, "…map."

Sobel glared down at the map (not before shooting me a death glare as I passed it over to him, of course, like it was my fault) while Will Evans and I looked on, silently wondering if he'd be able to figure out where he'd went wrong. Considering how overwhelmingly flustered he looked, I was willing to bet that he wouldn't.

Distressed, he looked up and turned around to face the men. Evans and I stood around awkwardly, shuffling our feet. I was inwardly cursing my own bad luck—getting the unfortunate opportunity to be assisting Captain Asshole for this exercise.

"Perconte! Luz!" he called out. "Get the men…get them ba—take cover behind those trees!"

Smooth, Sobel. Real smooth. Way to keep your cool under pressure.

After a chorus of "Yes, sir!" the men moved out toward the trees. I surveyed the area briefly, spotting a group of brown cattle in the distance, grazing in the fields beyond the fence. It was suddenly humorous to me that a bunch of cows were standing between Sobel and relative success in this objective. If he couldn't get past a simple barricade to keep _cows_ in, how was he going to stack up against the Krauts?

I didn't want my ass anywhere near him once we got to see action, that's for damn sure.

"There should be no…there should be no fence here," Sobel said, his eyes glued to the map, index finger tracing over it. His voice was low and defeated, for once. I didn't know about Evans, but I felt a fair amount of satisfaction in seeing his noticeable disappointment.

Evans spoke up. "Um," he cleared his throat, a little uneasy about suggesting anything and subjecting himself to that man's infamous wrath, "we could—we could go over it, sir."

A novel idea, Evans. You are braver than I for bringing up the obvious.

Sobel dropped his hands to his sides and stared at Evans with the classic _'No shit' _expression on his face. I knew he was gearing up to smack the poor guy down with the hand of…well, I can't exactly say God. There was nothing about Herbert Sobel that deserved that kind of comparison.

"_Really_?" he asked. "That's not the point!" I was expecting much worse. He could have been in a real world of hurt. "Where the goddamn—"

Evans looked away, biting his lip. He knew he was a lucky son of a bitch. Then again, he was so much of a kiss-ass toward Sobel, he was probably safer than the rest of us.

Sobel lowered his voice, turning his attention to the map yet again after taking a look around. "Where the goddamn hell are we?"

I took a step toward him in order to confer over the map, while Evans kept his distance. The men were just now rounding the group of trees to take cover for the time being. He brought the map up closer, and I leaned over it as he tried to work out the coordinates aloud.

"Six, eight, three, three—" I threw up one my hands and shook my head, sighing with aggravation. I didn't make the effort to keep the look of annoyance off my face, not while his attention was on the map. I couldn't even _look_ at him while he was asking me—asking _me_—if whatever he was rambling about made any sense. I tell ya, this man didn't have a hell of a lot of confidence in his abilities. "Isn't that the intersection?"

"No, sir, it's here," I told him, pointing at the correct one on the map. "You're a full grid off."

Jesus H. Christ, can he even _read_ a map? Not only is the man oblivious, he's directionally challenged. And he's supposed to be a leader.

"Goddamn it," Sobel murmured, running a hand across his brow. I watched him, bursting with happiness on the inside, but staring him down while he wasn't looking on the outside. I was allowed to gloat, I decided. My map reading skills were more up to par than our fearless leader.

"Is there a problem, Captain Sobel?" a voice, highlighted with a Southern twang, asked from the direction of the trees. The three of us immediately turned around.

"Who said that?" Sobel roared. "Who broke silence?"

George Luz, you conniving bastard!

I couldn't help but smile while our "leader" had his back toward me. I actually laughed, but had to stop myself from going into hysterics, for fear of blowing the entire scheme.

Although the impersonation was spot-on, I knew it could only be Luz. His penchant for impersonating the officers was legendary. There was no doubt someone had put him up to this.

"I think it's Major Horton, sir," I told him, quickly wiping the smirk off my face as he whirled around. Both he and Evans looked at me, dumbfounded. Neither one of them found this nearly as comical as I did.

"Major Horton?" Sobel echoed, glancing around frantically and finally focusing on Evans this time. "What is he—did he join us?"

Evans, who had his arms folded in front of him, seemed like he wanted nothing to do with answering Sobel's questions, for fear of pissing off the man he basically idolized one more time and losing his status as a teacher's pet. Funny that the man in charge has to ask the men of much lower rank what the fuck's going on…oh yeah, Herbert Sobel's definitely leadership material here. Maybe in basic training, but once he's out in the field, he's clearly all talk and absolutely no game whatso-fuckin'-ever.

Evans made sounds but didn't offer a response, handing that responsibility off to me. I don't think Will had any idea what the hell was really going on, so I had to take matters into my own hands. Again.

I played along with Luz's trick. I didn't even have a goddamn clue where Major Horton really was, but the excuse I threw at Sobel seemed to work.

"I think maybe he's moving between the platoons, sir?" It was more of a questionable guess than an explanation, as I attempted to remain completely out of the loop myself. It was hard, considering the sheer panic Sobel was displaying.

"What is the _goddamn_ hold up, Mr. Sobel?" Luz—I mean _Major Horton_—boomed. The emphasis on the Southern accent was ridiculously accurate.

"A fence, sir! A…" he cast a fleeting glance at the offending obstacle, "God," he muttered, knowing full well he was in deep shit—or so he thought. "A barbed wire fence!"

I tried. I honest-to-God_ tried_ to keep the smile off my lips, but so help me, I couldn't. After marching all over God's green earth and back with this man, enduring his endless storm of insults and _charming_ personality, it felt like a victory to see him shaking in his boots. I bet the men in the platoon, witnessing this first hand, were in stitches. I don't know how that man could keep himself together when donning such an absurd accent.

"Oh, that dog just ain't gonna hunt!" Luz-masquerading-as-Horton yelled cynically. "Now, you cut that fence and get this _goddamn_ platoon on the move!"

I shook my head, staring down at the grass to shield my face so Sobel couldn't catch me laughing. If he didn't get discovered, and no one found out about this, George Luz's stunt would be yet another legend in the history books. It was about damn time someone one-upped Sobel and revealed his shitty field skills. If those guys hadn't spoken up, we'd still be standing in front of this fence an hour from now with Sobel sucking his thumb like a fucking baby.

I applaud you, Luz and company.

"Yes, sir!" Sobel hollered. He then began scrambling about, yelling at us for his 'goddamn wire-cutters.' While Evans remained blissfully unaware of what had just happened, I kept an amused, overjoyed smirk on my lips as I helped our leader cut a path through that _goddamn_ fence.

When the men of the platoon marched through the newly created opening, they kept stealing looks at the man who'd successfully impersonated Major Horton in order to get everyone out of the hole Sobel had mercilessly dug for everyone. They continued to smile and stifle peals of laughter, whispering among themselves. I glanced back at Luz while Sobel was preoccupied with leading the way and gave him a well deserved thumbs-up, nodding in a subtle saluting gesture.

I decided that, as soon as I got the chance, I was going to buy those men a round of well-deserved drinks.

It wasn't until a day later when Sobel cornered me in his office that I feared the scheme had gone sour.

"You wanted to see me, sir?" I asked, standing at attention in front of his desk.

"Yesterday, I learned that Major Horton was on leave and therefore unable to be present to give that order to cut the fence."

So I'd heard. Someone had spotted Sobel getting a stern talking-to by Strayer. And I'd seen the cows grazing on the grounds at headquarters, generally getting in the way and causing a fair amount of disruption. (Luz had mustered up a repeat performance over drinks later on: "Those _goddamn_ cows ain't gonna move themselves, Captain! While yer at it, you can lick the cow shit off every boot in this _goddamn_ camp! And that is an _order_, Mr. Sobel!")

It seemed that the platoon's trick had more far-reaching consequences. I'd also heard that it had taken a good two hours to clear out the stubborn cattle, and the man who owned the fence was none too happy.

And neither was Sobel.

But it didn't matter. The guys had finally made him look bad in front of everyone, which he fucking deserved as punishment for being a shit for brains field leader and getting us lost. He had it coming, eventually. Luckily for the guys, they'd caught him with his pants down. There was no denying Sobel was pissed because even _he_ realized he'd been had.

That had to be the most satisfying part.

"Did you know about this, Private Tipper?"

I sighed. "No, sir.

"Do you have any idea who could have given the false order?"

"No, I don't, sir," I lied. I hoped he wasn't going to go as far as to question every man in the platoon. That would be a little desperate. But I'm sure if he didn't single out the culprit and make him pay, he'd punish the whole group just to make himself feel better. It was the only thing he could do to patch up his wounded ego.

Sobel pinched the bridge of his nose and avoided looking up at me. I didn't understand why he couldn't accept defeat and move on with his life. Was he that much of a stubborn jackass?

"I keep replaying that same situation in my head…over and over," he sighed, distraught. "It haunts my dreams, Tipper. It's downright unsettling!"

Was he…_crying_? If there wasn't actual tears, he was pretty damn close to it.

No fuckin' way.

I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep my composure. "I'm very sorry to hear that, sir."

Yeah, right.

Wait'll Luz got a load of this.

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**A/N: Considering how pissed Sobel looked when he found out he was tricked, I figured he would be beating himself up inside afterward, trying to figure out who had done it. Maybe he had an inkling—I'm not sure. Even if he did, the thought of Luz haunting Sobel's dreams with the impersonation he did is what ultimately led me to writing this fic. Please review!**


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